


cutthroat

by GreenLies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Angst, Circus, Fluff, M/M, iwaizumi is a knife thrower, oikawa is a man with a plan, the circus au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenLies/pseuds/GreenLies
Summary: "I’m serious.” Iwaizumi had procured a knife from one of his pockets and was now tossing it up and catching it by the handle, like some sort of game. It was enthralling for a moment, stealing Oikawa’s attention as the glint of the dim light flashed across the blade. “I saw your face when Daichi told you the position. If you’re going to be scared, it would be better to walk away now and avoid wasting everyone’s time.”When Oikawa joins the traveling circus, it seems like a dream come true; a chance to start fresh. But he struggles with handling the new environment, can't get on the good side of his partner, and his past is catching up to him. All things considered, it's only a matter of time until something goes wrong.(or: Oikawa is a target boy, Iwaizumi is a knife thrower, and both of them are just trying to stay afloat.)
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 17
Kudos: 30
Collections: IwaOi Week 2020





	1. thunderstruck

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY GOD. i'm very excited for this one y'all. it's been in the works for a few months and i can't wait to share it. 
> 
> i cannot give enough thanks to [Chi](https://twitter.com/got2ghost) for beta-ing and turning my gibberish into something legible and [Effie](https://twitter.com/tooruwrld) for being a total gem and helping me not completely give up on this piece when i got stuck. i love you both very very much. 
> 
> knife-throwing premise is lightly inspired by [poppy's](https://twitter.com/koubokeiji?lang=en) tweet!!
> 
> i'm going to be trying to update this every other Monday!

If you asked anyone to describe Oikawa Tooru, the first thing they would talk about would be his determination. His intense gaze, his focus, the way that he would decide to do something and refuse to let it go until he succeeded.

The second thing they would talk about would be his pride. 

Oikawa was a proud man - he knew this about himself. He got angry when he made mistakes, dejected when he couldn’t live up to other’s expectations, irritable when he didn’t understand things straight away. His mother once told him that, if he continued as he was, his pride would end up doing more harm than good. He had always laughed her off, insisting that it only encouraged him to work harder, to be better - where was the harm in that?

He wasn’t laughing now as he bowed so low his almost forehead hit the floor. At least the pain from that would have distracted him from the shame that was currently swirling inside his gut. 

“Please allow me to join you!” 

The ringleader stood in front of him. Oikawa had caught a glimpse of his nametag and his overly-colorful shirt, gotten an eyeful of the way he was barking orders at those around him, and concluded that this must be the guy who got the show rolling. 

It wasn’t as if Oikawa had a better idea of who to ask. 

He - _Daichi_ , as his nametag read - gestured for Oikawa to straighten up after a few seconds. Oikawa studied his face while he complied. Daichi looked impassive, utterly unsurprised at the booming request. Perhaps he was used to people begging for a chance, hoping for him to grant them their childhood dream of running away to join the circus. 

The circus. 

He was surrounded by colorful tents with performers milling around, receiving a few side-eyes for being one of the last people in the audience to still linger. Far away, he could hear someone breaking down one of the sets. The scent of popcorn filled the air, and the excitement from the crowd was still palpable, even though most of them had left already.

“And why should I do that?” Daichi looked almost bored. “What do you have to offer us that I couldn’t get from someone here?”

Something heavy dropped in Oikawa’s gut. They didn’t need him - of _course,_ they didn’t need him. The booming community that already appeared to be in place proved it.

If he had to resort to begging, fine. “I’m a hard worker. I’ll do any task assigned to me. I won’t cause trouble, I’ll keep my head down and get the job done.” 

“Prove it.” Daichi’s fingers tapped against the clipboard. “Show me something you can do. Some reason we should let you on board. We can’t just go around letting in everyone who asks, you know.” 

“I can’t.” 

Oikawa flinched as the words left his mouth, but even so, he knew they were true. As he was now, nothing made him special; nothing that would warrant a person like him being in a place like this. 

Daichi brows knitted together, his face contorting to something almost pitying, but before he could reply-

“Kenma _claims_ he needs a new headset, the tightrope is wearing out, and Tanaka got into a fight with another crew member.” The man speaking stalked towards them, looking serene but sounding murderous. “If we don’t leave this fucking city soon I’m going to lose my mind.” 

“Suga,” Daichi began, but he didn’t get out anything else before the other man’s gaze swung onto Oikawa. 

Suga’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly before his face smoothed out again. Oikawa wondered if he’d imagined it. 

“What does he want?” asked Suga.

Daichi cocked his head. “What they always want, of course. What else would it be?” 

Suga pressed his lips together as he surveyed Oikawa, head to toe. As he spoke, Oikawa noticed the natural authority he possessed, the almost imperious aura. “Let him stay.” 

“He doesn’t have any-” 

_“Daichi.”_ Suga scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I can’t argue about this right now. Let him _stay_.” 

Daichi appeared as though he did want to argue about this, but took one look at Suga’s face and seemed to retreat. 

Instead, he turned back to Oikawa. “Four days.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Huh?”

“We’re here for four more days,” Daichi repeated. “You can stay with us until we go to the next city. That’s all I can offer right now.”

Oikawa felt his stomach drop with relief. “Thank you!” He was already bowing again when Daichi stopped him. 

“Don’t thank me, thank Suga.” His eyes scanned the rafters above Oikawa’s head. “Earn your keep. If you start slacking, you’re out. Don’t make me regret this.” 

Oikawa took a deep breath. “Of course not, sir.” 

“There’s an extra bunk in bus two. If you have any shit, dump it there.” He was already turning to leave. “Hinata will show you around.” 

“Hinata?”

“Short kid, orange hair. You can’t miss him.” Daichi was walking away now, Suga in tow, but Oikawa swore he heard a smile in the man’s voice as he picked up the single suitcase he had packed.

As it turned out, he didn’t even need to find Hinata, because Hinata found him first as Oikawa was struggling with the door handle on bus two.

“Hey, are you okay? I’m sorry, the handle always gets stuck-” his eyes grew large as Oikawa turned around, taking in the other boy’s bright hair and even brighter tone. There was no way this kid _wasn’t_ who Daichi had been talking about. “You’re not trying to sneak onto our bus, right? I mean, no offense, but I’ve never seen you before. I know everyone on our crew. Unless you’re new?” Hinata had opened the bus door by now, despite his audible reservations. 

“I guess so.” Oikawa searched for an empty bed briefly before giving Hinata a once-over. “I’m only staying for a couple of days.”

“Are you looking for the spare bunk? It’s over there, but Tsukki put all his stuff in it. He’s so _annoying_ , I keep telling him that people might need to use it, but he never listens…” 

A blonde head popped out from one of the bunks towards the back of the bus. “And I told _you_ that having a sleepover with one of your little friends isn’t a reason for me to move everything.” 

“Don’t be rude! At least I have friends.” 

“I’m sure you do.” The blonde’s eyes lingered on Hinata for a moment more before landing on Oikawa, who forced himself to keep eye contact despite the bespectacled boy’s intensity. “A runaway, huh? I keep telling Daichi that he’s getting soft.” 

“Well, the _runaway_ is nicer than you! I bet you’re just jealous because…” His attention snapped back to Oikawa. “Hey, you never told me your name!” 

Oikawa forced a smile. He didn’t want to piss off the only person being nice to him. “I’m Oikawa.”

“Oikawa! I’m Hinata Shouyou.” He held out a hand. “Did Daichi tell you what I do?”

“Not that I can remember, sorry,” Oikawa replied, grabbing the offered hand with his own and shaking. 

Hinata grinned larger, if possible. “I’m a plate spinner. Everyone thinks it’s easy but it’s actually really hard. I can show you! Oh, Daichi probably didn’t mention that I give the _best_ tours, but if you want to…?” He trailed off, tilting his head as he asked.

“Sure.” Oikawa had nothing better to do, not even a spare bunk to claim as his own yet. 

“Awesome!” Hinata was practically vibrating as he ushered Oikawa back off the bus. Before he shut the door, he turned and yelled that “if the bunk isn’t cleared by the time we get back, I’m gonna sic Suga on you!”

“Fuck you!” came the muffled reply. 

Hinata only giggled. “You get used to him. He’s always like that.” 

“What does he do?”

“Tightrope,” Hinata replied with a roll of his eyes. “I’m surprised he didn’t mention it. Normally he never shuts up about how it’s the _backbone of the show.”_

Oikawa swallowed back a laugh.

The tour proved to be more helpful than Oikawa had initially imagined. True to his word, Hinata _was_ an excellent tour guide; he showed Oikawa where they ate and where they practiced, how the chores were divided, and even slipped in some gossip about who disliked who, despite Oikawa having no idea who Makki and Mattsun were and why they were arguing about who could fit more marshmallows into their mouths. 

The grounds were strangely empty. When Oikawa mentioned this to Hinata, the shorter boy nodded, shrugging lightly as he looked around the site. “It’s our day off, I guess. People usually just sleep all day, or go out into the city if they’re not tired.” 

In fact, Oikawa didn’t see another person until they almost crashed into him, and even then, could only see the top of the blonde’s head. Hinata stepped away from Oikawa for a moment to throw an arm around the other boy’s shoulders. 

“Be careful!” He scolded the two-tone blonde, who was immersed in his handheld. 

The boy looked up at Oikawa and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Do you work here?” 

“Kenma, be nice.” Hinata elbowed the boy gently in the ribs. “This is Oikawa. Oikawa, this is Kenma! He does all the tech stuff.”

“You know you can just say I’m on the crew,” Kenma replied, going back to his game without another glance at Oikawa. “You don’t need to make it all fancy.” 

“You’re no fun,” Hinata replied, pouting at Kenma before looking at Oikawa. “He works too hard, honestly. I keep telling him to request more people on his team, but he thinks he can do it all himself.”

“Shouyou, please.” Kenma ducked behind his hair. 

“I’m serious! You do the lights and the music _and_ the sound effects. That’s a lot.” He turned back to Oikawa. “The show would be lame if he wasn’t around.” 

“Enough,” Kenma said, finally looking up again and putting a hand over Hinata’s mouth. He was clearly trying and failing to hold back a smile. “I should get back to my bus, anyway. I want to look over some stuff before soundcheck.” 

Hinata shook off Kenma’s hand. “Fine! But you should stop by later. There’s this movie I’ve been meaning to watch, and Tsukki is being a huge brat about it.” 

“We’ll see.” Kenma gave Hinata another one of those microscopic smiles, and then he was gone. 

Oikawa and Hinata walked in a strange silence for all of thirty seconds before Oikawa couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“So, tech stuff?” He sounded much more curious than he had intended and mentally kicked himself. 

Hinata didn’t seem to mind. “We’ve known each other for a while. I was freaked out when I first came here, and he was… well, you saw him! Kenma’s really nice. And he’s been into technology for a while, I think.” 

Oikawa wasn’t sure that _nice_ would be the first word he’d use to describe Kenma, but Hinata knew the other boy better anyway, so he only nodded. 

“Is there anyone else I should know?” 

“Hmmm.” Hinata’s face scrunched up in concentration. “There’s Iwa, but I doubt you’ll see him… there’s Suga, but you’ll probably meet him anyway because he’s always with Daichi… oh! I know!” He lit up in excitement. “I’ll take you to see Bokuto and Akaashi!” 

“Bokuto and Akaashi?” Oikawa questioned, following anyway. It wasn’t like he could refuse. 

“Yeah! They’re the main acrobats. They practice for, like, a _million_ hours a day and you can tell, they’re so cool. Everyone loves them.” 

“Lead the way, then,” Oikawa said, bemused. He was getting used to Hinata’s enthusiasm towards everyone and everything.

A ten-minute walk later, and they were outside one of the larger tents. “You have to be really quiet,” Hinata mumbled. “Akaashi gets pissed when someone bugs him during their practice. And he’s _terrifying_ when he’s pissed.” 

Hinata led the way inside, making sure to close the door silently. 

Oikawa wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to be enthralled with. Two men, a smaller one and a more muscular one, stood in the middle of the stage. The big one was gesticulating wildly as the smaller one pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“That’s Bokuto, the one who’s yelling,” whispered Hinata. “They do this a lot… just wait…” 

After a moment, the two seemed to reach an agreement. Bokuto gestured something to the smaller one - _Akaashi_ , Hinata had said - and took both his hands. His voice rang out as he counted down from three, Akaashi taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. 

Bokuto lifted Akaashi straight into the air. 

Oikawa struggled to keep his jaw from dropping as Akaashi released one of his hands from Bokuto’s grip, reaching out elegantly in front of him. They stayed like that for a moment before Bokuto rejoined their hands, took a breath, and flung Akaashi upwards. Akaashi rolled over once in the air before Bokuto caught him and set him down gently. 

Hinata looked at Oikawa’s expression and let out a soft chuckle. “They can do way more than that.” 

Oikawa was shocked. He had never seen anything like that - not in television or movies, and certainly not in real life. He didn’t know a human body could move that way. It seemed beyond the realms of what normal people could do. “How...?”

“They’ve known each other since they were kids, apparently. Makes sense. I don’t think Akaashi would let anyone else throw him around like that.” 

Oikawa pushed the thoughts of throwing Akaashi around _anything_ out of his head. “You don’t say.” 

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Bokuto saw them. 

“Hinata!” He yelled, and ran up the steps two at a time to meet them. Akaashi didn’t follow but spared them both a small wave. 

“And Hinata’s friend! Who is this?” 

“This is Oikawa! He’s new! He’s helping out until we move to the next stop,” Hinata said proudly. “Oikawa, this is Bokuto! Well, I already told you that. But now he knows you know!” 

They shook hands. Bokuto’s grip was crushing. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice you meet you!” Bokuto’s energy may have surpassed Hinata’s, which Oikawa hadn’t considered to be a possibility. “So why are you here? What are you doing? Daichi doesn’t usually take people on out of nowhere!” 

“Needed an escape, I guess.” Oikawa shifted from one foot to the other. “Maybe he took pity on me.” 

“Guess so! Not that that’s a bad thing! I don’t think I would have made it half as far if Daichi hadn’t relaxed the rules as much as he did.” 

This made Oikawa feel like more of an inconvenience than anything, but Akaashi chose that moment to call for Bokuto, asking him to _please get back to the stage, Bokuto-san, we have a show tomorrow and we need to get this sorted_. 

Oikawa hurriedly mumbled a goodbye and spared one last glance at the stage before he left. They exited the tent. He took a couple of breaths, feeling a bit starstruck. 

“They’re…”

“Yeah,” Hinata was trying and failing not to look too proud of himself. “Right? They’re awesome! Bokuto’s so talented. And Akaashi is, like, actually the coolest. They’re really fun to watch in the shows, too.” 

“I can tell.” Oikawa scanned the skyline. The sun was just beginning to set, bathing everything in a warm golden light. 

“How _did_ you get Daichi to let you in? He almost never takes new people on, unless he knows them.” 

Oikawa sighed. “It wasn’t him, actually. Suga was there, and he insisted.” 

“Weird! Suga’s stricter than Daichi, in some sense.” Hinata knitted his eyebrows together, a comical exaggeration of curiosity. “Do you have any idea why?” 

“I don’t know.” Oikawa forced the many reasons Suga could have taken pity on him out of his head and instead let a smirk melt over his face. “Maybe he was just charmed by my dashing looks.” 

Hinata laughed so hard he wheezed, breaking the tension that had settled over them before changing the subject. Perhaps he had noticed Oikawa’s discomfort. “It’s almost dinnertime. We usually eat on our own, but you’re in our bunk anyway, so you can eat with us! There’s plenty to go around, it’s no trouble.” 

Oikawa didn’t know what he had done in a past life to deserve Hinata’s kindness, but he wasn’t about to pass it up. “Let’s do it.” 

When they got back, Tsukishima’s things were gone from his bed. Tsukishima himself sat cross-legged, his back ramrod straight, reading a book. Oikawa briefly wondered whether he was uncomfortable. Maybe the stick up his ass kept his posture from slouching. 

Tsukishima didn’t acknowledge Oikawa, only Hinata. “Is Kageyama eating with us tonight?”

“How would I know?” Hinata replied. “I’m not his keeper. Text him yourself.” 

Tsukishima only rolled his eyes and looked back to his book. “Your little tech team friend is in the back.”

“You don’t need to be jealous!” Hinata called back, but he was already walking to the end of the bus. Oikawa followed, not having the nerve to have to deal with Tsukishima on his own. 

Normally, he was better at these things, but today had been a strange day. 

Kenma was on the couch in what appeared to be a sitting room, although there were no chairs and only a small poker table. He lay on his stomach, a game held out in front of him, though he sat up when Oikawa and Hinata walked in. 

“Kenma!” Hinata bounced on the balls of his feet. “You didn’t tell me you were coming!”

“Kuroo was being annoying again,” Kenma told a couch cushion. 

“Ah, well. Can’t be helped with him.” Hinata scratched the back of his neck, laughing slightly. “You can help us make dinner! We’re already feeding Oikawa!”

_Am I a dog or something?_ Oikawa wondered, and for a moment he felt almost guilty, like he was leeching off their hospitality.

Hinata grabbed Kenma’s wrists and forced him up off the couch. Out loud, Oikawa asked, “Who’s Kageyama?”

Both Kenma and Hinata turned to him, but it was the former who answered. “He’s a trapeze artist.”

“He eats with us sometimes,” Hinata added. 

Oikawa nodded. “And Kuroo?”

“He’s the trainer!” Hinata replied. “He can deal with all the animals, and they love him, and he never hits them or anything. He’s really cool.”

“And loud,” added Kenma with disdain. 

Oikawa let a chuckle slide past his lips. 

Fifteen minutes later, pasta boiled on the stove as Oikawa cut vegetables and Kenma patted a block of tofu dry. The kitchen was small - two stovetops and a tiny counter, so Oikawa sat at the table as he prepared the ingredients diligently. 

“I try to be as healthy as I can, it’s good to stay in shape in this business, but honestly, there’s not a lot of options,” Hinata explained. “When we’re in a bigger city I’ll usually go out. We have to be up early tomorrow, though.” 

“Why?” Oikawa asked, then cursed softly as he barely avoided nicking his finger with the knife. 

“Two shows. We have a matinee, and then the big show at night.” 

Oikawa didn’t have time to reply before there was a knock at the door. Hinata set the wooden spoon on the counter and stepped down to open it. 

It was Daichi and Suga. “Oikawa,” Daichi said. “A word?” 

Oikawa nodded and slipped past Hinata to walk alongside the two men, wondering whether he had managed to mess up before his first day had even officially begun.

Once they were out of earshot from the bus, the two men turned to face him. Suga had a kind face, when Oikawa really looked at him - sweet dimples and eyes that glimmered with something akin to mischief. He couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than Oikawa.

“I know you briefly saw him before, but this is Sugawara,” Daichi said. “He’s the assistant manager.” 

“You can call me Suga, Daichi is just being formal.” Oikawa was flashed a smile, and he felt a little more at ease. “So, we all know tomorrow is your first day,” Suga said, his face still pleasant but his words authoritative. “We just wanted to run you through the basics of what we’re gonna need.” 

_He’s good at this_ , Oikawa noted. 

“You’ll be setting up the tents, first.” Daichi was much less scary when he wasn’t alone. Something about Suga seemed to soften him. “After that, it’ll probably just be whatever we need - a vendor, someone to help with the props, giving the performers water. Stuff like that. Nothing too difficult.” 

“We have staff on almost every tent, and they can help show you what to do,” Suga added. “It might seem scary at first, but it’s really not that difficult once you get into it.” 

“You’ll also have to help clean after,” Daichi said, “And make sure everything is ready to go for the next day.” 

Oikawa had never even put up a regular camping tent, but he plastered on a smile and made himself seem as willing and able as possible. He needed this. “Sounds good to me.” 

“Awesome!” Suga gave him a massive smile. “Breakfast is around eight, so just make sure you’re ready to go after.” 

“Got it.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Daichi said. 

“Have an awesome night!” Suga added, and then they were gone. 

Oikawa stumbled back up the steps and sank onto the couch. 

“What’s up?” Hinata appeared out of thin air, Kenma lurking behind him. 

“I’ve never put up a circus tent,” Oikawa said despairingly.

Kenma actually laughed - a soft, melodic thing. Hinata poked him in the shoulder before facing Oikawa again. “It isn’t that hard. The crew will help you.” 

“Yeah?” He stretched his arms, popping a joint in one of his shoulders. “I’m nervous.” 

“Don’t be,” Kenma said, his voice quiet but sure. “It’s not as bad as it seems.”

“He’s right!” Hinata grinned. “It’s like a family here. Even if you fuck up, it won’t be too bad. Hopefully.” 

Oddly enough, this was what eased the knot in Oikawa’s chest, and he gave a smile of his own. “If you say so.” 

He hadn’t seen Tsukishima that evening either, but the man proved he was still there with a resounding _can you all please be quiet_ coming from his bunk. 

“I guess we should go to bed,” Hinata said, his voice considerably lower. “Kenma, do you want me to walk you back?”

Kenma smiled. “Sure.” 

Oikawa watched them go before getting into his own bunk. The pillow was harder than the one he had at home, and his body wasn’t used to such a small space. Even so, it was only a few minutes before exhaustion overtook him. 

\--

Oikawa sweat as he struggled to lug a tightrope backstage. Din filled the small space; performers panicking about last-minute costume changes, the shouts of the crew, the music that was playing out front for the audience. Oikawa’s hands were stinging - he had been moving equipment for the better part of two hours. 

“It’s a rope,” he said out loud. “Why is it so fucking heavy?”

Tanaka, the person assigned to teach him, laughed loudly. “Do you really want an answer?”

Oikawa grunted in response, dropping the rope in the allotted space. “Are we done?”

“Just about.” Tanaka checked his watch. “Just freshen up, and then you have to meet back here to help the performers. 

“Help them with what?”

“Just make sure they're ready to go, that they aren’t too nervous, make sure their tags aren’t sticking out. You know.” Oikawa did not know, and upon seeing his face, Tanaka chuckled again. “Don’t look like that! I’ll be with you the whole time. You’re fine.” 

People seemed to be telling him that a lot lately. “I’m sure.” 

He washed his face quickly and noticed that the sun was just beginning to go down. Two long tones signified that the show was about to begin. Hinata caught his eye from across the backstage area and grinned, and Oikawa took a deep breath, allowing his nerves to flow out. 

Let the show begin.

\--

Oikawa’s first show had been excellent.

There had been no pressing issues, no immediate damage, barely a blip. The biggest problem had been telling Tsukishima to tuck in his shirt, which caused a resounding _fuck off_ to be hurtled in Oikawa’s direction. 

His hands hurt. His whole body hurt, actually; lugging the equipment around yesterday had taken a toll on him. Even so, it was accompanied by a glowing feeling of pride, the feeling that _he_ had contributed to something wonderful; a feeling he hadn’t had for a long time.

And today had been even better, so far. Daichi came to him in the morning and congratulated him on finishing his first day. Hinata was even brighter than yesterday, apparently due to both an excellent show and Kenma’s promise to help Hinata learn the game he had just bought. They ate breakfast together outside, sitting on the grass. 

He hadn’t even considered his time limit, or how this was only temporary, until about five minutes ago when Kenma had come up to him as he was struggling with a box of props, muttered “Daichi wants to see you in his office”, snickered quietly as Oikawa promptly dropped the box on his own foot, and left without offering any help. 

Oikawa was glad, actually. The idea of having a conversation with Kenma without Hinata there as some sort of liaison was a bit daunting. Still, he wasn’t exactly keen on why Daichi wanted to talk to him. 

Daichi’s office wasn’t really an office, just a room in the back of one of the buses with a few chairs bolted to the floor and a desk that pulled out of the wall. Even so, Oikawa knocked politely on the door and waited for Daichi’s rumbling “come in” before he entered. 

The first person he noticed was Suga, sitting at the far end of the room, putting up a hand and giving Oikawa a soft smile in greeting. Oikawa smiled back and swung his focus to the other side of the room.

The second person he noticed was Daichi, who looked almost hopeful. 

The third person he noticed was a man sitting slightly behind Daichi. He had spiky hair, tanned skin, and eyes like two uncut emeralds. He was also glaring furiously at the ground. 

Oikawa would have cracked a joke if he weren’t so damn nervous. 

When Daichi spoke, his tone was even. “Oikawa, this is Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi made no movement to get up, so Oikawa just waved a hello. Daichi gestured to a chair against the wall of the room. “Sit.” 

Oikawa sat. 

There was a tense silence for a few moments before Suga spoke up with a blinding grin. “Today’s your lucky day!”

Oikawa shifted in his seat, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry?”

“Oikawa, when you asked to stay with us, was it for any certain amount of time?” Daichi asked. 

“As long as you’ll take me, sir. I need- I want to be here, more than anything. But I thought we had established a time limit already.” 

“Like Suga said, your lucky day.” He looked between Iwaizumi and Oikawa, a tiny sigh passing through his lips. “We have a position that became recently available, if you want it.” 

“But why not give it to one of the other workers?” Oikawa asked, recalling Daichi’s words from the first day. _What do you have to offer us that I couldn’t get from someone here?_ “Why me?”

Daichi leaned forward, lacing his hands over his lap. “They’re practiced in their positions. You’re new, so we can train you however we see fit. And between you and me, this isn’t exactly a popular opening.” 

“What position would it be?”

“A target boy.” Oikawa cocked his head, confused. Daichi continued, “Iwaizumi is a knife thrower.” 

Oikawa tensed for a moment, as though _Iwaizumi,_ who was currently rolling his eyes, would get up and launch a blade at his head. 

And he considered.

Iwaizumi didn’t seem to like him - that much was clear, although for what reason, he didn’t know. He would be throwing sharp metal objects directly at Oikawa. Although, if Oikawa pissed him off, he may not even make the effort; his arms were big enough that a decent punch could probably knock Oikawa out cold. 

On the other hand, he had just gotten here. Daichi accepting him was a saving grace, a sign, perhaps. He needed this; he wasn’t ready to go back just yet.

It wasn’t like he was afraid of knives, and it wasn’t like he had many options. 

“I’ll do it, sir.” 

Daichi didn’t seem surprised at his response. “Okay. Excellent.” 

“There’s still a small matter of paperwork and such,” Suga piped up. “But for now, why don’t you and Iwaizumi get to know each other.”

“Good idea.” Daichi was already standing up, pushing the desk back into the wall. “Suga and I can grab the forms. We’ll be back soon.” 

Oikawa wanted to protest. He didn’t want to be stuck alone in a room with this man who was looking angrier and angrier with every passing second, but right now, he felt more like a charity case than ever. If there was one thing he needed to salvage, it was his pride. 

The door slammed shut as Daichi stepped out, Suga hot on his heels. 

Oikawa tapped the armrest with quivering fingers as the clock ticked on the wall above him. 

After thirty seconds, Iwaizumi spoke. “Neither of us are getting paid for you to be a coward.” 

The statement was so blunt and unexpected and _mean_ that it knocked a laugh right out of Oikawa. “Rude!” 

“I’m serious.” Iwaizumi had procured a knife from one of his pockets and was now tossing it up and catching it by the handle, like some sort of game. It was enthralling for a moment, stealing Oikawa’s attention as the glint of the dim light flashed across the blade. “I saw your face when Daichi said it. If you’re going to be scared, it would be better to walk away now and avoid wasting everyone’s time.” 

Oikawa could feel himself bristle at the implication of being weak, of being needy, of not being able to work hard enough to earn his place. “You’re making an awful lot of assumptions about someone you don’t know, Iwaizumi. Or should I call you _Iwa-chan_? Since you want to act like such a child.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Then don’t say things about me that aren't true.” 

“Oh?” Iwaizumi leaned forward, locking eyes with Oikawa. “So you’re telling me you won’t bitch out and quit when I start throwing the knives, then?” 

Oikawa raised his chin stubbornly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Prove it.” A smug smile made its way across Iwaizumi’s face, sharp and chastising as he stood from his chair. “Tent four. 7 PM. Get ready to practice. And for God’s sake, don’t be late.” 

It took everything Oikawa had not to shrink away. “Is that allowed?” His voice cracked on the last syllable, betraying his nerves.

Iwaizumi smirked down at him. Oikawa could see the depths of his green eyes from this close distance, and the thought flashed across his mind that they’d be pretty if they weren’t in the face of such a jackass. “You’re a big boy, aren't you? Get your paperwork done and it will be.” He moved away then, walking towards the door, waving a hand at Oikawa flippantly. “See you tonight.” 

Oikawa waited until the door shut, then buried his face in his knees. He wanted to scream in frustration, but instead held it in; he didn’t want to give Iwaizumi the satisfaction if he happened to overhear.

And that was the position Suga found him in when he came back five minutes later, forms in hand. 

\--

“What do you know about Iwaizumi?” Oikawa asked as he sat down to dinner with Hinata and Tsukishima. Kenma hadn’t come, but Hinata seemed confident enough that he’d show up eventually. Tsukishima had been relatively quiet, but he let out a snicker at the question. 

“Why do you ask?” replied Hinata, leaning back in his seat and tilting his head quizzically. 

Oikawa hadn’t told anyone about his situation yet, but decided Hinata might actually have some sage advice. 

“I’m a little worried,” he ended up saying after recounting everything that had happened that afternoon. “He didn’t seem to like me very much.” 

“Iwaizumi’s very prickly, but he’s fine once you get past that shell. Kinda like a hedgehog, especially with his spiky hair,” Hinata said, gesturing to his own untamed locks. “He was probably just having a bad day.” 

“How sweet. You’ve been set up with a playdate,” Tsukishima smirked, barely contained glee hidden in his voice. “Maybe Daichi thought you would get along.”

Oikawa turned back to his food. “I hope so.” 

\--

When Oikawa got to tent four that night, Iwaizumi was already sitting in the center of the stage, dim lighting casting shadows upon him as he spun a knife between his fingers. Oikawa could pick out the flash of the blade even from a distance, and he watched for a second. It was mesmerizing, but he managed to tear his eyes away from Iwaizumi’s deft tosses of the knife.

The whole thing was just a little too dramatic for Oikawa’s taste, so he powered up the overhead lights. Iwaizumi sat up stiffly, presumably to yell at him, before slumping back down. “Oh. It’s just you.” 

“It’s just me,” Oikawa replied. 

“Get in front of the target.” Iwaizumi gestured to a large wooden board on the edge of the stage that had the outline of a body on it. “We don’t have all day.” 

“What, no introductions? No _hello_? Honestly, Iwa-chan, you’re being a bit of a bad host here.” 

Iwaizumi massaged his temples. _“Target._ Now. And stop calling me that.” 

“Iwa-chan is so _demanding_ ,” Oikawa said sweetly before heading towards the board, whistling, determined not to let Iwaizumi see how nervous he was. 

“Center yourself up,” Iwaizumi said, and Oikawa complied. “Now stay still.” He raised the knife he had been spinning earlier.

“Wait!” Oikawa couldn’t control the panic that took over his voice this time as he threw his hands in front of his face. “Hold on!” 

There were a few moments of silence, and he relaxed when he realized that Iwaizumi wasn’t about to brain him with a knife. The other man had lowered his hand and was glaring again. “I thought you promised you weren’t going to duck out?” 

Oikawa swallowed and willed his hands to stop shaking. “Isn’t there, like, some kind of training? Something I have to do?”

“Right now, all you need to do is _stand there_ and not move. I’m the one throwing, remember? You barely do anything, so just try not to mess it up.” 

“Okay. Okay, fine.” Oikawa shook out his hands and straightened his back. “Let’s do this.” 

Iwaizumi raised the knife again and took a stance. Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut, body flinching of its own accord away from Iwaizumi’s throwing arm. 

Once again, there was no _thunk_ of the knife hitting its target. Oikawa opened his eyes. 

“I told you all you need to do is _not_ _move_. It isn’t that difficult!” Iwaizumi looked like he was about thirty seconds from forgetting the knives altogether and punching Oikawa square in the jaw. 

“You’re going to hit me!” Oikawa tried to tuck his hands in his pockets before realizing his entire body was trembling. 

“If you move while I’m throwing? Yeah, I probably am!” 

Oikawa pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Jesus- just- just give me a minute, okay? This is a lot.” 

“We don’t have a minute,” Iwaizumi said coldly, and then he was grabbing Oikawa’s shoulders and dragging him back until they were both in the middle of the stage. “Watch.” 

Iwaizumi grabbed one of the knives and inhaled. His face became eerily blank as he threw. Oikawa watched it spin blade over handle until it stuck into the target, right above the outline of the head. 

He shuddered. 

“I’ve been doing this for fifteen years. If I wanted to hit you, I would have already.” Iwaizumi stalked up to the target and grabbed the knife. “I told you before, and I’ll tell you again - if you’re going to be scared, no one here has time for you. It would be better for you to just go.” 

Oikawa turned away. He assumed Iwaizumi was finished with his reprimand, so he jumped when the next words were spoken right next to his ear, warm breath hitting his cheek. 

“Think about it.” 

Oikawa watched Iwaizumi climb the stairs and leave the tent. The whole thing couldn’t have taken more than fifteen minutes, but Oikawa was exhausted. The mental strain alone was bearing down on him. He walked up to the target and traced the outline of where Iwaizumi’s knife had hit. 

Perhaps accepting this offer had been a mistake.

  
  


\--

The next day, they only had one show. Daichi had known Oikawa wouldn’t be ready in a day, so he let Oikawa help out with the props and performers again that night. Oikawa was expecting to be able to sleep in a little later, so when someone started knocking on their bus at nine in the morning, he was still mostly asleep as he stumbled to open the door. 

His yawn died halfway when he found Iwaizumi standing outside, a takeout bag in one hand. 

He scratched the back of his neck with the other. “I, uh. Brought food?” 

Oikawa glared. Was this Iwaizumi’s idea of a peace offering?

“Can we eat together outside?” He tried to peer into the bus, but Oikawa was blocking the doorway. “Please?”

Oikawa sighed and took pity on him. “Fine.” 

It was a quiet morning - most people were still asleep. The only sounds were the crunching of dew-drenched grass under their feet and the cicadas singing shrilly as Iwaizumi led them to a grassy hill that wasn’t far from Oikawa’s bus. 

They sat in silence and Iwaizumi handed Oikawa the bag. Inside was a sandwich, probably from the restaurant down the street. 

“I talked to Suga,” Iwaizumi offered. 

Oikawa stayed silent. 

“He knocked some sense into me. Reminded me that everyone starts somewhere, told me I was too harsh.”

“Just a tad.” 

Iwaizumi lay back on the grass. “My old partner, Yaku, broke his ankle. It wasn’t even something cool, or anything during a show - he tripped coming out of his bunk. He was a pain in the ass, but at least he knew what he was doing.” 

Something white-hot and angry rose in Oikawa, rearing its ugly head in the recesses of his core. “Well, I don’t. I think we established that. So if that’s all you came to say-” 

“No, no.” Iwaizumi threw an arm over his face. “What I mean is, I’ve never trained someone from the ground up. And having Yaku gone has me stressed as all hell, because if I can’t do this right, we both lose our jobs. I know I was too mean. I’m sorry.” 

“Oh…” Oikawa didn’t know how to feel about the strange, minute pressure that was sandwiched between the apology. “Well. I appreciate it. I’m sorry, too. That I’m being so scared about this” 

“Don’t be stupid. It isn’t your fault.” Iwaizumi tapped his fingers against the ground absentmindedly. “Any sane person would be. I just forget, sometimes.” 

Oikawa let himself smile. “I guess you’re right.” 

“Do you want to start over?” Iwaizumi gestured to Oikawa, who was almost finished with his meal. “We can practice again today. I promise I’m not as rude as yesterday made me seem. I won’t yell at you again. We can take it slow.” 

Oikawa considered refusing for only a moment before letting out the tense breath he’d been holding in. “Alright.” 

Iwaizumi stood up and held out his hand. Another peace offering. Oikawa took it, careful and firm, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. 

“Let’s go.” 

The walk was quick. When they got to the tent, Oikawa made for the target again, but Iwaizumi waved him off in favor of pulling up a chair across from the one he had been sitting on yesterday. 

He handed Oikawa a knife, hilt extended carefully once they were both seated. 

“This is the type of knife I usually throw. It’s about twelve inches, long handle, sharp blade. It’ll be good for you to get used to the feeling of it, I think.” 

Oikawa turned the knife over in his hands and nodded. 

“I’ve been doing this since I was seven. I’ve never hit someone, and I don’t intend to start now. This is my job. I don’t mess up.” He paused for a moment. “But I don’t think the problem is you doubt my abilities. I think the problem is that you don’t trust me.” 

Oikawa blinked up at him. It wasn’t like Iwaizumi was wrong. 

“I’m not quite sure how to combat that. Normally it’s just a bond that comes with time, but we don’t have a lot of that.” 

“So what are we going to do?” 

“We’ll start with part of the show that diverts from knife throwing.”

“I thought my job was just to stand there?” Oikawa tried not to sound too apprehensive about the idea that there was even more to this job than expected. 

Iwaizumi rubbed his own forehead. “Essentially, yes. But you just standing there wouldn’t make for an entertaining show.” 

“I mean, what else would I do? I’m not going to be cartwheeling while you’re throwing knives, right?”

Iwaizumi quirked a half-smile. Oikawa gulped. 

“How flexible are you?”

\--

“You realize you’re going to have to figure it out, whether you want to or not.” 

Oikawa grunted. “My body isn’t built for this. Like, I literally don’t think I can do this.” 

They were on the floor. Or, rather, Oikawa was on the floor. Iwaizumi was leaning against the board, smirking as Oikawa’s latest version of a backbend had caused him to topple over before his hands got anywhere close to the ground. 

Iwaizumi held out a hand for him. “You need to start stretching. Ask Akaashi for some stuff you can do. It’ll get easier if you work on it every night.” 

“Fucking…” Oikawa ignored the hand and splayed out on his back. “Akaashi. Akaashi’s scary.” 

“I’ll tell him you said so.”

“Iwa- _chan_!” Oikawa scrambled to his feet. “You better not. I don’t want him to not like me before he even knows me.”

“Fine, fine, whatever. Can you try going down again?”

Oikawa buried his head in his hands. “Honestly? No. My spine is going to snap.”

Iwaizumi sighed. “There’s one other thing you can do. But I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“What is it?”

Iwaizumi crooked a finger. “Follow me.”

Behind the stage was dark, but Iwaizumi seemed to know his way through well enough. He poked around for a moment before struggling with what appeared to be a large wooden circle. Oikawa hung behind, his back still aching, not yet willing to help. 

Finally, Iwaizumi was able to wheel out the board. It was striped with red and white and was labeled with different numbers. 

“Iwa-chan?”

"This is another target. I usually use it to practice, but if you stand in front of it, would you be comfortable with me putting the knife in?" 

Oikawa sighed. "I don't know..." 

"How about this." Iwaizumi stepped closer and grabbed Oikawa's shoulders, centering him to the board. "You stand here, and I'll push the knife into the farthest ring. You can watch, and I won't be throwing it. Is that okay?"

Oikawa ignored the way that nerves splayed out over him at the very thought of another knife being close. "Okay." 

His skin prickled as Iwaizumi stepped closer, raising an arm above Oikawa's head, gripping the knife. Oikawa could see out of the corner of his eye as he touched it to the board, steadily applying more pressure until it went all the way through with a hollow noise.

Oikawa didn't realize he was holding his breath until he let it out in a whoosh when Iwaizumi stepped back, satisfied. He slowly realized that the world hadn't ended - he hadn't died and the sky hadn't fallen, and there was a knife sticking out above his head, and he suddenly had the insane urge to giggle. 

“How was it?”

Oikawa felt himself relax. “I don’t know.” 

“Yeah?”

He realized, belatedly, that he was grinning. Maybe all the fear had damaged his brain. “Yeah.” 

“Well, okay then.” Iwaizumi’s voice was laced with amusement as he started to push the contraption backstage. 

Oikawa covered his face with his hands, trying to force his heart to stop racing, trying to make the adrenaline stop pumping. By the time Iwaizumi returned, he had finally calmed down. 

“I think we’re done here,” Iwaizumi said. He had a knife out again and was spinning it between his fingers. “For today, I mean. But this is definitely an improvement over yesterday.” 

“Yeah,” Oikawa admitted sheepishly. “Thanks for understanding. Or for not making me do the knives right away, I guess.” 

“No, I’m glad we did it this way. You seem a little more comfortable than before, at least.” 

Oikawa nodded. “So, same time tomorrow?”

“Same time, same place.” Iwaizumi killed the lights as he began to walk out. “And hey. It gets easier with time, okay?”

Oikawa smiled softly, knowing Iwaizumi wouldn’t be able to see it. “Yeah.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i rewrite my stories weeks after they're published to change minor plot points. so what


	2. my way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is beautiful, we meet Kuroo, Oikawa puts on eyeliner, and Iwaizumi can be very kind.

Oikawa’s hands were sweating, perhaps even worse than they had been when he met Iwaizumi for the first time. Hinata had been kind enough to tell him which bunk was Bokuto and Akaashi’s, but now that he was here, speaking to them alone seemed almost too daunting to bear. 

He stepped up to the bus and forced himself to knock on the door. The wait was excruciating, as was the snail’s pace that the door creaked open. 

Akaashi stood there, looking down at Oikawa. Oikawa stared back, slightly starstruck for a moment at the fact that this was the same man he had seen performing two days prior. 

“Oikawa-san,” Akaashi said, snapping Oikawa out of his reverie. “What can I do for you?” 

“Um.” Oikawa forced his brain back online. “Iwaizumi said that you had a few stretches? For me?” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I have to learn to do a backbend.” 

“Alright.” Akaashi opened the door wider and stepped back. “Well, I’m sure you won’t want to do it outside. Come in.” 

Oikawa followed obediently, taking note of the glaring silence in the bus. “Where is everyone?” 

“They went to get dinner. They know I like to spend time alone in the evenings.” They had reached a back room. “Feel free to lie down whenever you’re ready. This isn’t going to be quick.”

Fifteen minutes later, Oikawa was cursing every decision that had ever led him to be sitting on Akaashi’s floor, pelvis pressed to the floor as he tilted his head towards the ceiling, palms on the ground. His back screamed when he forced his elbows to lock. 

“Five more seconds, Oikawa-san.” Akaashi’s head was nearly touching the back of his knees, his expression infuriatingly calm. 

Oikawa collapsed onto his stomach, sweat dripping off his chin. His muscles ached, burning from the strange, slow stretches Akaashi had put him through. He was used to taking care of his body, used to stretching his muscles, but never like this. 

“If you remember those, it’s easy to do on your own.” Oikawa forced himself to focus on Akaashi’s voice. “If not, you can always come here and review them with me. I’m usually in my bunk.” 

Oikawa shifted to a sitting position. “How long have you been doing this, Akaashi?” 

“Quite a bit longer than you, I’m guessing.” His smile was barely there, but it made Oikawa smile back. “It all comes with time. What I showed you is effective, but only if you do it right. If you slack off, it’s easy to tell. You won’t improve.” 

“I don’t slack off.” He got to his feet. “It’s not like I have a choice. Can’t exactly leave now.” 

“Why not?” Amusement played across Akaashi’s face. 

Oikawa ignored the question, instead getting to his feet. “Thanks for the stretches.” 

“Anytime.” When he looked back, Akaashi’s eyes were closed, his legs folded like a pretzel. Oikawa took the hint and got off the bus.

He showed Iwaizumi a few of the stretches the next morning, prompting the other man to nod with satisfaction. “Those should be good, for now. At least enough for you to learn some basic tricks.” 

And so began a routine. Breakfast with Hinata and Tsukishima, practice with Iwaizumi, setting up the props and helping the performers, and dipping candy apples before going back to his bus and stretching for an hour. 

The first move to another town was brutal - an early wake-up time, packing up the tents, and enough hours on the bus to make Oikawa nauseous. But the sights of the next city were so beautiful, it almost made up for the drive. 

Slowly, things began to feel more natural. The stretches Akaashi had showed him began to be more comfortable. Iwaizumi and he would talk during practices. It was clear the man was trying to put him at ease, get him more comfortable in the environment. Sometimes he would try to teach Oikawa his movements, how he positioned himself when he threw. 

Oikawa could never imitate it correctly, but he appreciated the effort. 

It became easier.

After about a week of tirelessly stretching, Oikawa floated into practice flushed with pride. “Iwa-chan!” 

Iwaizumi looked up from the knife he had been spinning. “Hm?” 

“Look.” Oikawa fell backwards, feeling as though the world was tipping until he landed with his palms on the ground. It had taken him a while, but he was finally able to do a sloppy backbend. 

Iwaizumi clapped slowly, standing up from his chair. “Congratulations. And here I was thinking you’d never get it.”

“ _ Mean, _ Iwa-chan!” Oikawa’s arms had started shaking - despite having the flexibility for a backbend, he still wasn’t able to hold up his bodyweight from this angle. He tumbled to the ground, his muscles running out of stamina. 

“Jesus Christ,” Iwaizumi commented, and Oikawa looked up at him, which-  _ oh. _

His eyes were soft, his mouth turned upwards into a small smile. His cheeks were dusted a light pink. He looked, for lack of a better word, gorgeous. 

_ Oh. _

The world seemed to stop turning on axis for just a moment, because surely Oikawa was just going- surely he  _ couldn’t- _

“I was thinking,” Iwaizumi said, pulling Oikawa out of his stupor. “Do you think you’re ready to try the knives again?” 

Oikawa’s mouth went dry as the statement knocked everything else out of his head. “The knives?” 

“I feel like it’s something you’ll never really be  _ ready _ for. You just have to do it. And I think you’re starting to trust me more. Right?” 

Oikawa considered it. Considered how Iwaizumi had brought him breakfast and helped him stretch when he needed, and how instead of forcing Oikawa to stand in front of the target he allowed them to simply sit there and talk, just to make Oikawa more comfortable. 

“Yeah. I trust you.” 

Iwaizumi smiled. “Let’s do this, then.” 

Oikawa stepped in front of the target, forcing himself to look straight ahead. It was all the same. It was all different. He thought about how much had changed in such a short time. He thought about what he had learned. And he thought about how, if he failed to do this, perhaps he would have to return to how he was living before. 

Fear was still spinning through him, but he ignored it, ignored the overwhelming impulse to run away. The important thing was that Iwaizumi knew what he was doing, and Iwaizumi wouldn’t hurt him. 

The words he had said the first day echoed back to Oikawa.  _ If I wanted to hit you, I would have. _

Maybe this was a fear he had to make himself face. 

He nodded at Iwaizumi to throw. 

The other man’s form was impeccable - his body stayed straight as his hand crooked behind his head, muscles rippling as the knife moved fluidly over his shoulder and came towards Oikawa, spinning blade over handle. 

Oikawa kept his eyes forward. He refused to flinch, and this time, it was almost easy. 

The knife landed half a foot away from his face, slamming into the board with a loud  _ crack. _ Oikawa turned his head to look at it. It was completely straight, blade facing Iwaizumi, and was buried nearly up to the hilt. A perfect shot. 

Oikawa covered his face in his hands. They were shaking. 

He didn’t see Iwaizumi walk towards him, but he could hear his voice. “Are you okay?” 

“Am I okay?” Oikawa let his arms drop and took a shuddering breath. “Am I okay? That was…” 

Iwaizumi quirked an eyebrow, waiting for Oikawa to continue. 

“Holy shit. I did that.” He pointed to the knife sticking out of the board, his brain practically overloading. “And you didn’t even hit me! I’m touched, Iwa-chan. You’re not as brutish as you seem.” 

“Take it down,” Iwaizumi replied, but he was holding back a smile. “That was one time. You’ve still got a ways to go.” 

Oikawa pouted. “You’re supposed to say I did a good job! Congratulate me!” 

“Fine, fine. Good job, Oikawa.” Oikawa laughed in response, giddy with pride. 

“Do you think you could do it again?” Iwaizumi had one hand beside Oikawa’s head, bracing outside the knife as he pulled it out with the other. 

Oikawa smirked. “Do you think I can’t?” 

He was able to do it again, and a third and fourth time, before finally calling it quits, worried that the adrenaline pumping through his body would make him collapse. Something about doing such a risky activity, not just once but again and again, made his head spin. 

They chatted absentmindedly as Iwaizumi climbed the stairs, Oikawa at his side. 

Iwaizumi stopped short at the front of the steps. Oikawa turned around, head tilted in confusion. 

“So I’m going to be eating dinner. Tonight.” Iwaizumi shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “If you want to come? Just so we can talk about what you still need to do.” 

“Wining and dining me already?” Oikawa teased, but he couldn’t help the happy flush that rose to his face. Of course, Kenma and Suga and Daichi had all been kind in passing, but this was the first friend he had made outside of Hinata. “Well, when you ask me like that, how can I say no?” 

“You’re an asshole _. _ ” Iwaizumi smacked Oikawa’s arm and pushed open one of the tent flaps, letting the sunlight stream over both of them. “Meet me at my bus, then. It’s number two.” 

“What time?” 

“Let’s do 7.” Iwaizumi didn’t wait for an answer, choosing to head in the opposite direction, one hand running through his shaggy hair. 

Oikawa gave himself a moment to breathe. 

Dinner, huh. 

* * *

Iwaizumi’s bunk was cleaner than his own. He must have had roommates, somewhere, but they weren’t there when Oikawa showed up. 

Instead, the smell of a warm meal floated through the bus. Oikawa’s stomach growled against his will - he hadn’t eaten since the morning, too caught up in practice and then stressing over visiting Iwaizumi, trying to push the strange moment he had had during practice out of his mind. 

Iwaizumi greeted him with a soft smile. He was different here in his own environment, bashful about his cooking and grinning to Oikawa when the man stated he had no reason to be embarrassed. The sun was just beginning to set as they sat down, murmuring a thanks before digging in.

The sounds of chewing filled the air for a moment before Oikawa broke the silence. 

“How did you start, anyway?” He pushed the rice around on his plate, suddenly nervous. “The knives, I mean.” 

“Like, throwing?” Iwaizumi sighed and leaned back when Oikawa nodded. “Dunno. My dad did it when he was a kid, and after I saw the circus for the first time, he decided to teach me.” 

“And you were good at it?” 

“Not immediately.” Iwaizumi seemed more comfortable when he was talking about something he knew. “It took me a while, actually. My old man kept telling me I might not be built for it, especially after I almost took my own thumb off.” 

Oikawa gaped. “Really?”

Rather than answering, Iwaizumi placed a hand in front of him. Sure enough, there was a jagged scar running halfway across his palm and over his thumb. Oikawa ran a finger over it. Iwaizumi’s palm was warm, rough from years of practice.

Oikawa yanked his hand away, realizing exactly what he was doing. The terrible feeling from earlier was back. 

“Um.” He took a moment to come back to himself. “What happened?”

If he didn’t know any better, he would say Iwaizumi looked almost smug _.  _ “Wasn’t even impressive. I was just tossing it up and down, and caught it the wrong way. Sliced clear across my hand. I had to get twelve stitches.” 

“Ugh.” Oikawa shuddered, pushing the strange feeling out of his head. “You should be careful.”

“Aw, are you worried or something?” Iwaizumi chuckled, turning his hand back to himself, examining his own scar. “I was, like, ten. It was the worst injury I got.” 

“I would hope so! A knife-thrower should know better than to injure himself.” 

“Yeah, I don’t do that anymore,” Iwaizumi said, mirth dancing in his eyes. “You should see some of my other assistants, though.” 

Oikawa felt horror cross his face for a couple of beats before Iwaizumi burst out laughing. “I’m kidding. You don’t need to get your panties in a twist.” 

“ _ Iwa-chan!”  _ Oikawa whined, his face very much  _ not  _ going red at the other man’s teasing, thank you very much. “Don’t joke about that stuff!” 

Iwaizumi leaned his chin on his hand. “I’d never hit you. You know that, right?” 

“I should hope not,” Oikawa said. “I’m the best assistant you’ve got. What would you do without me?” 

“You’re the  _ only  _ assistant I’ve got,” Iwaizumi replied, before pondering for a moment. “What about you? Why’d you show up all of a sudden, anyway?”

Oikawa refused to open that compartment of his mind. He already felt as though something was pressing against his chest, his skin too tight for his body with Iwaizumi’s attention focused so directly on him - he didn’t think he could handle anything more. “Mmm. I’ll tell you later.” 

“You better. The main component of a knife-thrower and an assistant is  _ trust,  _ you know.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Oikawa sighed. “What time is it, anyway?” 

“Ah, it’s almost eight-thirty.” Iwaizumi sighed. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” 

Oikawa stood up, and Iwaizumi followed him. They drifted to the front of the room, and Oikawa turned suddenly. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, only that he wasn’t ready for the night to be over. 

“Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi stared back at him, face open and slightly shocked, and the feeling spilled over completely. 

“Iwa-chan, I-” 

“Iwaizumi!” 

The door opening had Oikawa stepping back on instinct, looking over to see the new intruder. It was a man with messy black hair, a half-smile resting on his face. His eyes fell on Oikawa and narrowed slightly, grin growing bigger. 

“And  _ you  _ must be Oikawa. I’ve heard so much about you. Is it true that you’re-”

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi interrupted with a dark glare. “This is Kuroo. My bunkmate and a complete menace. Kuroo, be nice.” 

Oikawa met Kuroo's gaze head-on. He felt rivaled by this man, though he wasn’t quite sure why. “The animal trainer?” 

“Mmm, indeed. Hey, congrats on standing in front of the target today. For the  _ first  _ time.” 

“Kuroo, shut the fuck up,” Iwaizumi said. 

Oikawa forced a pleasant expression onto his face. “Wow, you told him? I’m honored, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi grabbed Tooru’s sleeve. “And  _ that’s  _ our cue. I’m taking Oikawa back to his bunk. See you soon, Kuroo.” 

“Have fun~” Kuroo replied. Oikawa refused to decipher the tone. 

They walked in silence until Oikawa could see his own bus. 

“I’m sorry about him,” Iwaizumi said. “He’s just trying to get on your nerves.” 

“I guessed,” Oikawa replied, trying to keep his tone light. “Is it really that bad that it took me so long to get in front of the target?” 

“No. Of course not.” Iwaizumi’s voice was quiet. “I’m actually surprised you were able to do it as soon as you did. For some people, it takes years. I told him because I was proud. I promise.” 

Oikawa tried to suppress the elation rising inside him at the idea that Iwaizumi was  _ proud. _ “Oh. Thank you, I guess.” 

“I’m serious. If you were shit, I’d tell you.” 

That forced a grin from Oikawa. “I’m sure you would.” 

They arrived at Oikawa’s bunk, and Iwaizumi shifted awkwardly. “Ah, well. See you tomorrow?” 

Oikawa waved at him while he opened the door. “See you!” 

“Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because we hung out!” Iwaizumi said as a final goodbye. Oikawa laughed at that. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

And even after the door shut, he still pictured Iwaizumi’s eyes, dark and considering and, dare he say it, beautiful. 

* * *

Oikawa had expected at least a little bit of awkwardness when he and Iwaizumi trained that day, but the man acted completely normal, apart from his warning Oikawa that practice from now on would be  _ much more intense. _ Oikawa would have to learn to get comfortable with having the knives land closer to his body, and eventually would be forming different positions for Iwaizumi to throw between. Oikawa obliged, and tried to push everything else he had felt about Iwaizumi out of his mind.

As it turned out, Oikawa still had plenty to worry about besides. He was fine when Iwaizumi would throw the knives far away, but when he began to inch closer to Oikawa’s face, Oikawa couldn’t stop himself from squeezing his eyes shut. 

“The audience isn’t gonna be happy if they have to look at you making that horrible face,” Iwaizumi said after the third time. 

“I can’t help it! I don’t want it to take my eyes out!” 

“Oikawa, how many times do I have to tell you that I-” 

“ _ Don’t mess up, _ ” Oikawa finished with him. “I know. I’m just scared.” 

“You know this is just something you need to do, right?” Iwaizumi aked.

Oikawa sighed. “Yeah. Just keep going. I’ll get used to it.” 

Practices began to stretch longer. Oikawa started to be able to get his body to do what he wanted, his arch becoming more pronounced, his movements more graceful. Iwaizumi was able to throw knives just above his head, and he learned to stay still, looking at those emerald eyes instead of the knife spinning towards him. 

There was a slight problem of the awful heat that would rise in his chest when Iwaizumi was around, the way he would break out in a sweat when the other man teased him, but he was dealing with it. He could handle that. He  _ could.  _

Feelings aside, Oikawa felt himself growing stronger from the physical labor he was doing by night and the healthy food he was eating by day. He and Iwaizumi had begun to hang out outside of practice when Oikawa had had enough - going on walks around the perimeter, eating dinner together, and sometimes just laying back on the grass and talking. 

Oikawa learned a lot about Iwaizumi, that way. 

He learned that Iwaizumi had almost gone to college for engineering before he met Daichi. He learned that Iwaizumi had used to use his stuffed animals for target practice. He had three siblings but was the only one who had learned knife throwing. His father came to all the shows he did in Miyagi. He was allergic to bees. He loved roller coasters. One day, he wanted to own a cat. 

Iwaizumi was certainly more than he seemed, once Oikawa had managed to see behind his shell. 

Oikawa was more sparing with his information. He told Iwaizumi what he could - that he had, indeed, never considered joining the circus before. That yes, he had gone through high school and decided that a desk job wasn’t for him. That yes, he had things he enjoyed, of course he did - long walks and short movies and people he knew. 

But he and Iwaizumi began to grow closer nonetheless. 

And, more importantly, Oikawa was improving rapidly. 

“You hold the balloon  _ between _ your teeth. Don’t balance it on top! Stupidkawa.” Iwaizumi swatted his arm, but he was laughing. Oikawa had been told to pinch the end of a balloon with his mouth for Iwaizumi to pop with one of the knives. 

“It’s going to explode! It’ll hurt my face. I can’t sacrifice the moneymaker.” 

“ _ I’m  _ going to sacrifice the moneymaker if you don’t get your ass up there and do this thing right.” Iwaizumi gestured sharply with one of the blades. 

“I’ll do it if you do it first.” Oikawa took the knife and gave the balloon to Iwaizumi. “Tell me if it hurts.” 

“Even if it does, I’m going to lie.” 

“ _ Whatever.”  _

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and took the balloon, putting it between his own teeth. 

“Just push against it until it pops,” he said, words muffled through the rubber. 

Oikawa pressed into the balloon, gentle at first before giving it just enough force to prick the surface of the balloon, hand shaking slightly from his proximity to Iwaizumi. The balloon swelled and popped, Iwaizumi still clutching the shreds between his teeth. He hadn’t even flinched. 

Oikawa raised an eyebrow and Iwaizumi spat out the remainder of the balloon before grabbing the knife back. “See? Didn’t even hurt.” 

“Fine, okay.” Oikawa copied what Iwaizumi had done, gripping his teeth just below the knot and tilting his head back until he faced the ceiling. He felt a force moving the balloon to the side and clenched his teeth harder, keeping it in place until it exploded, the pressure disappearing. It didn’t touch his face, instead ripping at the knot and floating to the ground. 

Oikawa winced and straightened up, massaging small circles around his neck, trying to ease the strain away. 

“Well?” Iwaizumi prompted. 

“It was fine, I guess,” Oikawa said grumpily. 

He came to dread practice much less once he and Iwaizumi were, tentatively, friends. Iwaizumi respected his limits, and in return, Oikawa expanded them more every day. 

Until the day he came in and Iwaizumi was leaned forward in the chair, leg bouncing nervously, an unreadable expression on his face. He wasn’t even playing with a knife. 

“What’s up?” 

“What do you mean?” Iwaizumi scratched the back of his neck - a nervous habit Oikawa had picked up on not long ago. 

“You’re obviously itching to talk about something, so spill.” 

Iwaizumi sighed and stood up. “Daichi talked to me this morning.” 

“Okay?” Oikawa still didn’t understand what had Iwaizumi so concerned. They wouldn’t fire him - it wasn’t like they had another readily available knife thrower. 

“He wants to put you in a show.” 

Oikawa blinked once, then twice, the information slowly sinking in. “Me?” 

“Yes, you.” A grin had begun to overtake Iwaizumi’s features. “He thinks the audience is probably tired of seeing me hit standing targets.”

“But I’m not ready.” 

“On the contrary,” and  _ there _ was the knife, spinning around Iwaizumi’s finger, “I think you’re very ready. You were able to catch your backbend with one hand yesterday.” 

“Huh.” Oikawa considered it. He didn’t feel prepared, not in the slightest. “What did you say?” 

“I said you would, of course.” 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa buried his head in his hands. “You can’t speak for me.” 

Iwaizumi patted him awkwardly on the back. “Well, you never would have agreed. And I think that if I say you’re ready, you probably are. You’ll like performing. It’s a certain type of addicting.”

“Am I getting out of this?” Oikawa asked, but deep down, he already knew he had lost. 

“Not a chance.” 

It turned out that preparing for the show was much, much different than what went on behind the scenes. A very awkward afternoon of getting his measurements taken, an official stage name for the program, copious amounts of makeup to match his skin. 

“Your job is to stand there and look pretty,” Iwaizumi had told him at one point after he whined about the leather pants they had put him in. “The crew is already working miracles. Quit complaining.” 

Oikawa rolled his eyes and muttered something about  _ ungrateful _ as he tried to differentiate the shades on the eyeshadow palette he had been given the day prior. 

He wasn’t put into the show that night. He and Iwaizumi were given two days to prepare, to get their routine together. It was to be no more than ten minutes, Daichi said, and Oikawa had begun to get excited about his first show. 

_ Iwaizumi _ was getting excited - more so, perhaps, than Oikawa, nearly ecstatic about having an official partner again. He fussed over the costume, stretched their practice times, and had even attempted to do Oikawa’s eyeliner. 

  
“Why do I need eyeliner in the first place?” Oikawa had asked, simultaneously squirming back and smacking Iwaizumi’s hand away, afraid that if he got too close he’d be able to hear Oikawa’s heart jackrabbiting. 

“Because the audience is going to be looking at you, and you’ll look like a blank slate if you don’t put anything on.” Iwaizumi gripped his chin, tilting his head up. “Stay  _ still.”  _ But the hand used to apply the eyeliner was surprisingly gentle, the cold, feathery sensation making Oikawa scrunch his nose. 

(It was worth it to see how he looked when it was completed - dark lines and sharp angles making him seem nothing short of  _ powerful.) _

Memorizing the program was an entirely different beast. Oikawa’s brain had never been very quick to learn any sort of routine, but he was bound and determined to be successful. Iwaizumi put him through the wringer, making him practice the movements over and over again, different twists and shapes, making sure that not a single step was out of place to the point where Oikawa could do it with his eyes closed. 

He still tensed up slightly when the knives got too close to him, but Iwaizumi assured him the audience wouldn’t see. It wasn’t ideal, but it was acceptable, at least for a first performance. 

And then it was the day of the show. 

The performers were allowed to sleep a little later, but Oikawa was so full of nervous energy that his body woke up even earlier than usual. It took him about fifteen seconds to realize he wouldn’t fall back asleep, and instead slipped on his shoes and crept out of the bus on silent feet. 

He intended to just take a walk through the premises, trying to calm his mind, but his plans were cut short after a few minutes when he saw Iwaizumi sitting on a bench towards the middle of the area, lost in thought. 

“Hey.” 

Iwaizumi jumped but didn’t turn to look at Oikawa. “Hi.” 

Oikawa sat down next to him. “You nervous?” 

“No.” Iwaizumi laughed, a bit strained. “No. I don’t mess up.” 

“Are you trying to convince me or you?” 

“I  _ don’t.”  _ Iwaizumi replied firmly. “Are  _ you  _ nervous? Is that why you came out to bug me at seven in the morning?”

“Aww, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa teased. “You like it.” 

“Sure I do.” But something in his voice seemed lighter. 

They didn’t have to truly start getting ready until about ten, so Oikawa dragged Iwaizumi to one of the diners down the street. They had their share of greasy breakfast, despite Iwaizumi’s laments on how  _ unhealthy  _ it was to eat fast food on a show day. 

“So how are you feeling?” Iwaizumi asked, picking at his potatoes as Oikawa finished the last of the orange juice. “Still scared I’ll hit you?” 

“No, not exactly, just…” Oikawa took a moment to consider. “I don’t like being seen. I’ve been in my own bubble here. But once I’m up there, I can’t take it back, you know? Everything I do is out to the public.” 

“Huh.” Iwaizumi stared at his reflection in his spoon. “I never thought of it that way. Have been doing it most of my life, though. There was never really any other option.” 

“My image matters a lot. To me. Or it did, at least. It used to.” 

Iwaizumi quirked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything and Oikawa flushed with the new vulnerability hanging in the air. Few words were exchanged as they paid and left the restaurant. 

“Iwa-chan, what’s the plan for today?” Oikawa asked as they reentered the circus grounds. The world around them was starting to wake up, bunk lights flicking on and the smell of coffee permeating the air. 

“Hmm. Well, that’s really up to us.” Iwaizumi stopped and turned to him. “Will you feel more comfortable if we run through it again?” 

Oikawa considered it. “No. I don’t think so. I don’t want to mess up.” 

“It’s your day, then.” Iwaizumi stretched his hands over his head and looked up. “What do you want to do?” 

“What do  _ you  _ usually do?” Oikawa asked. 

And that was how he found himself being led down past the busses and the tents, past the barriers and the parking lot, through a chain-link fence and onto a riverbank. 

“How do you…” Oikawa was astonished. They had only arrived in the new city yesterday. 

“I’ve been doing this for a while, remember?” Iwaizumi’s voice was light, fleeting, happier than Oikawa had heard it possibly ever. “Started looking for my own little places a while back. We hit the same cities every time, so I wanted to find spots to clear my head.” 

He dropped down on one of the flat rocks decorating the bank, prompting Oikawa to do the same. 

They sat for a while, the only noise being the cicadas humming in the air. The water lapped against the bank, and as Oikawa breathed in the air, laden with the smell of dirt, he could see why Iwaizumi loved coming here. 

“I meant what I said.” Iwaizumi wasn’t looking at Oikawa, his neck red. “You’re going to be fine, today. You’re ready.” 

Any other time, Oikawa would have cracked a joke, but Iwaizumi’s tone was so insistent that he had to push his heart down from his throat. “Thanks, Iwa-chan.” 

“You’ve grown a lot, these past few weeks,” Iwaizumi said. “I’m proud of you, you know.” 

Oikawa flushed at the praise. “Be proud of yourself. You’re the one who taught me.” 

“But you picked it up quicker than I thought you would.”

“You taught me better than I thought you would.” 

“Fine, fine.” Iwaizumi held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll be proud of both of us, okay?” 

Oikawa smiled. “Okay.” 

They stayed for a while longer, until the sun was up high in the sky and fish were circling in the water below them. Iwaizumi stood and dusted off his pants. “We should go. You have a lot to get ready for, after all.” 

He held out a hand, and Oikawa wordlessly pulled himself up before they began to head back the way they came. 

Iwaizumi was right; he did have a lot to get ready for. Hair and makeup - the eyeliner, done by the makeup crew this time, didn’t feel as strange. Dark eyeshadow that seemed like overkill looking in the mirror but would apparently make him  _ unforgettable  _ under the stage lights. Strange leather pants and a simple jacket. 

The afternoon went by in a blur, and soon enough, the sun was setting and the scent of popcorn was floating around the tent. 

Iwaizumi came to get him right as dusk began to fall, leading him to the tent they always practiced in. The audience hadn’t begun filtering in, so they came through the main doors before slipping backstage. 

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes, scanning Oikawa from head to toe. “You should be fine. The audience will like how you look, at least.” He was wearing black pants not unlike Oikawa’s, a plain black shirt, and a jacket to match. They looked nearly identical. 

The rest of the crew began to come in then, and the audience filled the seats not long after. He and Iwaizumi’s act was third, so Oikawa had to suffer through Hinata balancing plates and Akaashi’s acrobatics before it was his turn. 

He was feeling strangely calm about the whole thing, as though he was watching through someone else’s body. However, as Bokuto grinned up front and took a bow, Oikawa suddenly found himself unable to move, nerves firing rapidly, small shocks that zipped through him head to toe. 

Iwaizumi approached him, and Oikawa felt his eyes widen. 

“Oikawa.”

“I can’t do this.” He began to feel his lungs expand rapidly, struggling to breathe. 

“Oikawa, look at me.” 

He did. 

Iwaizumi looked utterly calm. “Follow my breathing.” He breathed in and out, slowly, and Oikawa mimicked him. 

He took Oikawa’s hands in his own, and Oikawa’s chest constricted. “It’s normal to be nervous. But you’ve been working on this for days. You know what you’re doing, right?” 

“I don’t know,” Oikawa whispered. 

Iwaizumi squeezed his hands. “I promise, getting out there is the hardest part. After that, your body takes over. Your mind doesn’t even have to be there if you don’t want it to.”

“Okay.” 

“You can walk out with me, yeah? We can do it together.” 

Oikawa closed his eyes. “Okay.” 

He forced himself to take one step forward, then another, until he crossed through the curtain to the cheers of the audience and was hit, all at once, with a rush of familiarity. Of course, he could do this. It had been done a million times before. 

Being on the stage was endlessly different than working behind it.

The light was buttery and sharp, shining directly on Oikawa’s face. He had to force himself not to squint. It was warm, and he could feel a bead of sweat roll down his arm as he and Iwaizumi stepped up to the front. 

Iwaizumi waved, and in another setting, Oikawa would have laughed at the theatrics. Now, it was all he could do to look towards the audience. The lights were centered on him, the ones on the spectators completely dark. He couldn’t see any of their faces; in fact, he couldn’t see if they were there at all. Perhaps here, now, it was just him and Iwaizumi. 

The thought reassured him as he stepped forward and dropped his jacket. The screams that followed made him smirk, just a little. 

He walked towards the board with light steps, trying to keep his composure as Iwaizumi had once told him to. 

He faced the front, but it was no longer a show for the audience. Everything now was simply  _ Iwaizumi _ . He was in front of Oikawa, the light surrounding him like some kind of superficial halo. The audience cheered as he lifted a knife, tossing it and catching it, spinning it between his fingers. 

_ Show-off. _

And then Iwaizumi was looking at him, and Oikawa could feel his heartbeat amplify. It vibrated through his chest, through his arms, all the way down to his toes. His breath caught in his throat. He could feel the eyes of the crowd on him, basking in the warmth of the lights, and stared at Iwaizumi as the man gave a smile that was almost gentle and lifted his chin as the first cue. 

Oikawa straightened up, and Iwaizumi threw the first knife. It landed above Oikawa’s hand with a loud  _ crack _ . 

Oikawa didn’t flinch. 

The audience cheered. 

Iwaizumi nodded, this time and Oikawa obediently lifted his arms beside his head. A knife landed on the inside of each one, forming a neat triangle, and Oikawa breathed out. 

The trust he and Iwaizumi had so tenaciously built showed itself clearly as Oikawa continued to twist and bend, forming shapes with his body as Iwaizumi threw. The knives left a beautiful pattern surrounding him, and the feeling of so many people watching was almost heady. 

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, prompting the final act. Oikawa took the board and turned it around, showing a line of neat red balloons lined up against the board. He reached behind and grasped another one, sticking it between his teeth. The audience grew quiet. Iwaizumi locked eyes with Oikawa, and there was something warm and determined and nearly feral behind his expression. 

_ Here. _

_ Now.  _

Oikawa leaned back, allowing himself to bend, letting his back arch until one hand brushed the floor, the balloons in a neat line over his body. He thought of the first time he had done this - he and Iwaizumi hadn’t known each other, had barely been able to talk to each other, but Oikawa’s shell had already begun to crack. 

Three knives flew in quick succession, the noise reverberating as they struck the balloons directly above Oikawa’s taught stomach. 

_ Crack.  _ Another knife, just over his chest. 

Oikawa took a deep breath and tilted his chin up, facing the ceiling, the balloon perfectly straight. He forced himself not to crane his neck as the audience waited with bated breath for-

_ Crack.  _ A knife landing just above his face, popping the balloon. He could see it clearly if he crossed his eyes. 

The audience went wild. Screams echoed around the small tent, demands for more, cheers and cries. 

Oikawa swallowed before standing up, safely out of the way of the knives. The noise was making his head spin. 

He was beginning to understand why Iwaizumi had called this addicting. Why would anyone take drugs when they could just achieve this cocktail of adrenaline and fear and surprise, so strong that Oikawa was sure he could get drunk off it?

He and Iwaizumi lined up next to each other again and took a singular bow. 

Iwaizumi led him off the stage. In his peripheral, Oikawa saw someone coming on to pick up his jacket and wheel out the board, but his brain was only focused on Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi,  _ Iwaizumi. _

He tested his voice, first. “Not bad for a beginner, huh?”

Iwaizumi was getting closer now, shadows dancing on his face in the dim lighting, determination taking over his features. “Not bad at all.” 

Oikawa wasn’t sure who lunged towards the other first, but then they were kissing, the heat between them nearly unbearable. Iwaizumi’s hands grappled Oikawa’s bare shoulders, slick with sweat, and Oikawa hooked his thumbs through Iwaizumi’s belt loops in an attempt to pull him closer, swallowing his heavy gasps hungrily.

Iwaizumi led them backward, kicking open the dressing room door without breaking their kiss, Oikawa following. Emotion was swirling around inside his gut, excitement and exuberance, and just a little bit of guilt. He was backed against the countertop now, Iwaizumi lifting him as though he weighed nothing at all, upsetting the makeup scattered across the surface as he was set down upon it. 

Iwaizumi kissed him firmer, then, bullying his way into Oikawa’s space, grabbing his hips as though they were a lifeline. He tasted like sweat and heat and Oikawa would have been almost disgusted, had it been anyone else. 

Iwaizumi broke their lips and instead began planting hot kisses onto Oikawa’s neck. Oikawa’s breath stuttered as he tried not to squirm, but Iwaizumi was insistent, and-

“Hey.” He pushed Iwaizumi’s shoulders, and Iwaizumi broke off immediately. 

“What’s up?”

“Wait.”

Iwaizumi pulled away and hopped up onto the countertop next to him, where they sat in silence for a moment.

“This isn’t just a one-time thing, right?” Oikawa blurted, immediately mentally kicking himself for being too straightforward. “I mean, like, if you wanted it to be, that’s fine! Like, I’m okay with whatever you’re okay with, but I don’t want to assume, because-”

“God, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi’s tone was almost fond. “I don’t particularly enjoy kissing people that I’m not interested in, you know.” 

“So, are we…”

“Whatever you want.” Iwaizumi leaned over, resting his head on Oikawa’s shoulder. “What do you want?”

Oikawa let out a silent breath of relief. “Let’s just… take it slow, okay?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi said. “We can take it slow.” 

He linked his pinky with Oikawa’s and Oikawa let him, letting the simple touch ground him, letting the tide of want rush over him completely .

He closed his eyes, still glowing from the performance and comfortable with Iwaizumi’s warm weight on his shoulder, and for that moment, everything was alright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah im using song titles as chapter titles what abt it
> 
> come scream at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/toputitsimply) if you so choose 
> 
> comments feed my soul and help me write and keep me going thru this game we call Life


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